


Love is Deep as the Road is Long

by hiddenfires



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Heaven & Hell, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Minor Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), after the South Downs Cottage, but later on, but not really bc there's more at play, eventually a country cottage is gonna get boring, forever is a long time, vaguely a songfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 12:47:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22805725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddenfires/pseuds/hiddenfires
Summary: “This isn’t working."Aziraphale moved his rook two spaces, a delighted smirk dancing along his features.“Really? I’d say it’s working quite splendidly."Crowley's eyes were glued stubbornly to the chess board before him, clearly pretending to study his next move and oddly fidgety.“S’not what I mean” he replied, “all of this… a bit sick of it really. I think I’m gonna head off somewhere” Crowley replied.Aziraphale’s heart sank.Oh.Or: What happensafterthe After.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	Love is Deep as the Road is Long

**Author's Note:**

> (Title from "Nobody Knows" by The Lumineers)

“This isn’t working.”

Aziraphale moved his rook two spaces, a delighted smirk dancing across his features.

“Really? I’d say it’s working quite splendidly”, he replied.

They had been playing chess for the better part of an hour, tucked in the corner of their large patio overlooking the hillsides known as the South Downs. For once, Aziraphale was winning. Or, more like for once Crowley wasn't cheating. 

The failed apocalypse had been the tensest situation either had experienced in their long existence. The aftermath had found Aziraphale and Crowley with an unburnt bookshop, a Bentley in-one-piece, and the sudden inability to find contentment in their situations. Both were used to observing the world change around them (being there from the start of course) and adapting to fit whatever new mold it provided them. Crowley had always been better at doing it than Aziraphale, but the knowledge that the world was in constant change remained a consistent and unavoidable fact for them both (the unpopularity of the gavotte nowadays being a particularly poignant reminder for Aziraphale). Both had found their own ways of dealing with this. Eventually, Aziraphale began to give up adapting his fashion every few decades, and rather kept whatever style he liked best. Then there had been the bookshop. Sick of relocating every few decades and eager to create a stable storage area for his ever-growing collection of books, it had been one of the greatest senses of consistency and familiarity Aziraphale had felt, beyond his relationship with Crowley.

Crowley, on the other hand, didn’t mind adapting his look to fit the times (rather enjoyed it actually), but still did always look for ways to leave his signature on whatever lookhe was sporting. Although initially (and still) a role of near necessity, Crowley’s sunglasses had become a small constant he gladly clung to (not that he’d ever admit such a thing), no matter where (or when) he found himself. Their shape may change, sure, but one could almost always expect to find Crowley with a black visage covering his bright yellow eyes.

To see the world begin and change over the past six millennia has been one thing, but witnessing it almost end brought many aspects of the universe: human, demonic, and celestial alike, into question.

Aziraphale had always adored watching humans find new and creative ways to express themselves, especially as the millennia went on.

Don’t misunderstand, Sophocles’ plays had been marvelous, but when he first heard of the printing press’ creation, and held his first book in his hands (an unremarkable brown leader bound bible, with an unignorable misplace of the phrase in John 3:16. It had been the beginning of a centuries long adoration for such misprints) he knew the humans had simply outdone themselves.)

Lately, with help from one young and particularly teach savvy neighbor, Aziraphale had even began to explore the internet in a much more dynamic way. The world was always changing, sometimes at a quicker pace than others. They’d made their peace with it, just happy to have a world at all after that summer 15 years ago.

This chaotic and wonderful world, which they’d seen cultivate love and war, pollution and ingenuity, famine and charity over so many painstaking years, was home. So, as newly-free agents, Aziraphale and Crowley could no longer content themselves to be mere spectators. Sure, they’d taken part in more than their fair share of history, but more often than not, it was tinged with some sort of agenda (a blessing here, a temptation there). Only the moments where they weren’t adhering to orders seemed to stand out the brightest (secret meetings, fine wine, and unexpected friendships). The failed apocalypse gave Aziraphale and Crowley a chance to live as freely as they wanted - for the precious time being at least. And with it had come the realization that they were no longer merely_ in_ the world, but, in a very real way, _of_ it.

As they dined at the Ritz that perfect first night, it had been a cause for celebration, but as the months widdled on, the truth began to settle in much more heavily. They were both glad to be free of their previous obligations, but to continue going about their existence as they had for the past six millennia wasn’t an option. So, for the first time, Aziraphale and Crowley decided to move solely on their own accord.

The South Downs was appealing, and a much-needed reprieve after the past eleven years. So, Aziraphale miracled his bookshop (he couldn’t very well leave the thing, he still and always will be a creature of habit) to give an overwhelming urge to those who got too close to it to simply leave. He had never had a true intruder (although Gabriel’s visits did frequently border on such, not that that would be an issue for quite awhile now) and that wouldn’t start now. By some kind of miracle (both take credit), a cozy cottage in Devil’s Den suddenly became available. Aziraphale brought with him and assortment of his favorite books and teas, Crowley his treasured Bentley (what else?), and they were off.

It was only meant to have been for a few months, at most.

But they quickly found themselves addicted to the opportunities such a move created. Crowley, for his own personal enjoyment, loved to meddle in town affairs. None of the locals had been able to put their finger on it, but town gossip had intensified quite rapidly since the arrival of the two lovely but strange men up the road fifteen years ago. They were such delightful company though: _that Anthony just so knowledgeable and encouraging, it was like he could see what you truly desired. And that Ezra! what a dear, angelic and odd in the most charming sort of way._

Yes, they were having their fun.

Many days, they also found themselves in the quiet. Crowley, to no surprise, preferred a louder and faster pace of life. Aziraphale did as well, just in his own way. Nonetheless, it was nice to spend time together without having to do so discreetly.

So, despite it all, frequent afternoons like this were working quite well. They were also quite fond of chess. Aziraphale was currently playing black (because why not) and Crowley white.

Crowley paused for a moment and moved his Queen two squares to the left.

“S’not what I mean”.

His eyes were glued stubbornly to the chess board before him, clearly pretending to study his next move. 

Aziraphale studied his face. He was oddly fidgety, something was off.

“You’ll have to be less vague than that dear, do say what you mean” he huffed.

“All of this … a bit sick of it really. I think I’m gonna head off somewhere” Crowley replied.

Aziraphale’s heart sank.

_Oh._

**Author's Note:**

> They are NOT breaking up! 
> 
> Next up: An actual explanation, then everything will start making a lot more sense. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, comments are definitely welcome!


End file.
